Contention
by Jaenelle Angelline
Summary: Trevor Langan defends Olivia's rapist
1. Chapter 1

Contention

**Chapter 1: Acquittal**

"I'm very sorry for what happened to you, Miss Geary." Trevor Langan's voice was honey-smooth as he got up out of his seat and buttoned his jacket, taking care to smooth the wrinkles out afterward. "But…I just need to clarify a few things. You never actually saw my client's face at any point before, during, or after the attack, did you?"

"It wasn't an attack! He raped me!" Allison Geary pointed at the defendant, Morris Karman, sitting behind the defense table.

"Miss Geary, if you never saw his face, how can you be sure that my client is, in fact, your attacker?"

"I heard his voice when he asked me if I liked it that way," Allison said, her eyes burning with tears as she stared Trevor Langan down.

"But when Detective Benson brought you in for a lineup, you at first couldn't identify the voice from the voices of the other men in the lineup, could you?"

"Not at first, no." Allison sounded tentative. "But after they all spoke the same words a second time I realized it was him!" She pointed to Morris Karman.

"But you identified your attacker the first time as an off-duty NYPD cop who had been on the force for eight years."

"They tricked me! It was a setup! They had a lot of people who sounded the same! How was I supposed to know who I was supposed to pick out?" Behind the prosecution table, Casey sighed and mentally gave up. After that little outburst, there was no way she was getting this conviction.

"I have no further questions, your Honor." Trevor sat down with a satisfied smile. He'd just gotten a win, and he knew it.

Casey got up and delivered her closing arguments with as much energy as she could muster, even though she knew, and Olivia, sitting in the row of gallery seats right behind her, knew, that there was no way they were winning this. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are not here to settle the question of whether the police set the witness up, or not. Morris Karman stalked Allison Geary for a week, and seized his opportunity when a package came for her. He went up to Allison Geary's apartment claiming to be a deliveryman, and when she answered the door expecting a package, what she got instead was a brutal, violent rape. He smashed her head into the wall, then pinned her there while he raped her. Dizzy and sick and in pain, she nevertheless correctly identified her assailant's voice when detectives brought her in for a lineup. Morris Karman thought he was being smart and using a condom, but the spermicide found inside Allison Geary matched the spermicide on the condom found caught in her bathroom toilet drain, and I don't think that was a coincidence. Don't let Morris Karman get away with ruining Allison's life. Ladies and gentlemen, he must be found guilty and placed where he cannot do this to another woman ever again."

The jury took an hour to deliberate, and came back with a not-guilty verdict, and Casey sighed as she collected her material and stood up. "We tried our best, Olivia," she said placatingly to the detective sitting behind her.

"It wasn't enough. Damn it, it wasn't enough." Olivia sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets. "I could really kill Trevor Langan right about now."

Casey grinned crookedly at her. "I'll pretend I never heard that."

"Casey, you know I'd never…"

"I know, I know," Casey smiled as she and Olivia left the courtroom and paused by the hallway door. "Lighten up a little, Olivia."

"I just…I spent weeks making that case, and I'm sure we got the right guy. Everything fits. You know he's guilty. I know he's guilty. Hell, Trevor Langan has to know he's guilty. I'll bet the jury even believes he's guilty, but Trevor's badgering put enough appearance of a reasonable doubt that they had to acquit. And we know rapists don't stop, Casey. He's not going to stop. I just don't want him to ruin another woman's life like he ruined Allison's."

"How is she doing?"

Olivia blew out her breath and stared at her shoes. "She's coping. She's progressing with the rape counseling, but it's slow going. She still hasn't left her parents' home. She insisted her parents let her apartment go and sell or get rid of everything in it because she says she can't stand to even look at anything that was in there anymore. Her mother brought a framed wedding photo of Allison and her ex home from the apartment because she thought that Allison would at least want that, and Allison got hysterical and refused to come out of her bedroom until her mother got rid of it. She won't even take her dog out to the backyard."

"Excessive paranoia?"

"Can you blame her?" Olivia shook her head. "I remember when you got beaten up. You were a wreck for a while, Casey."

"I know." Casey sighed. "My own office…and you'd only stepped out for a minute…I still wonder what he would have done if he'd come and we both were there."

"I'm sorry I wasn't." Olivia was sincere.

"It's all right. I got over it. Allison will too."

"I hope so." Olivia sighed. "George talked to her after trial prep that day; he told me he thought that if she didn't get her feet under her soon, she'd go suicidal."

"I hope not." Casey shuddered. "God, what a waste of a life." She was silent for a minute, then said, "What would you do if something like that happened to you?"

"You have no idea how often I ask myself that," Olivia said. "Every time I see someone like that, I wonder what I would do. I wonder if I'll start drinking to numb the pain, like my mother. I wonder if I'll cut my hair and wear running shoes to bed, like Harper Anderson. I wonder if, God forbid, I'd turn my gun on myself. I don't know, Casey. And I hope I'll never know."

Casey nodded. "That's a fair answer. All right, I have to get back to Hogan Place. I'll see you later at Maloney's?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, I think I'll just go home tonight, Casey. But I'll take a rain check."

"All right. See you tomorrow then."

Casey headed off down the hallway, and Olivia paused to dig her sunglasses out of her pocket. Just as she looked up, she heard an oily male voice say, "Better luck next time, Detective. Your place or mine, ladies' choice."

She didn't even stop to think. Two quick steps forward brought her close, and she reached out to grab his sleeve. "You dirty little—"

"Hey, hey, easy, Detective," came a calmer, familiar voice from behind them, and Olivia looked up as Trevor Langan interposed his body between Morris and herself. "Keep walking, Morris. Detective Benson, don't make me file harassment charges against you on my client's behalf."

Olivia put her hands on her hips, struggling to control her temper. "You just hit a new low, even for you, you know that, Trevor? You know he's guilty."

Trevor raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "I'm just doing my job, Detective, defending my client."

"Yeah? Well, you want to know something? Remember back in law school, when they taught you how to create a moral vacuum so you could defend people you knew were guilty? I think you fell in it and never came out." Olivia shoved her hands in the pockets of her blazer and walked away, gritting her teeth to keep from saying anything else.

The sun was shining outside, and the smells from the hot dog vendor at the foot of the courthouse steps were tempting. Letting go of her bad mood reluctantly, she gave in to her stomach's urging and went to buy herself a hot dog. As she was applying condiments to the steaming package in her hand, someone cleared a throat behind her. She turned and locked eyes with a smiling Trevor Langan.

"Oh, God. Please, Trevor, get away from me before you have to file your own assault charge against me, because, so help me God, I could slug you right now and not feel the slightest bit guilty." As she walked away, a distant part of her mind wondered when Trevor had had time to change out of his court attire and into khaki pants and a black t-shirt, but she dismissed it as she hurried off to the car to get back to work.

**

She dismissed the entire incident completely from her mind, except for a niggling bit of guilt that she'd lost her temper. In the middle of the paperwork involved with closing a case and gritting her teeth as she wrote 'innocent' in a case blank, she never even looked up when the noise level in the squad room dropped to nil and Fin and John stopped discussing…whatever it was they were discussing. A male voice in a pleasant tenor said politely, "I'm looking for Detective Benson?"

"Right here, I'm Detective Benson—" she put her pen down and looked up…and froze when her eyes met an irritatingly familiar pair of deep brown ones. "Trevor, what the hell—if you think I'm going to be appeased by a bunch of dying weeds, you got another think coming." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.

Trevor Langan smiled—_How odd, I don't think I've ever seen him smile like that, he's actually cute when he's genuinely smiling_, Olivia thought—and realized why he was being so uncharacteristically pleasant when the apparition opened his mouth and said, "Actually, my name's Peter. Peter Langan. Trevor's my twin brother."

Olivia sprang out of her chair, horrified and embarrassed at how she'd treated him. "I'm so sorry!" _So that explains the sudden change in clothes. Damn it, what kind of detective am I? He's too nice to be Trevor. I should have seen that._ "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. So what are these for? Shouldn't I be apologizing to you?"

Peter smiled again—_God, I could really get used to that smile_—and said, "Consider them…an apology. For losing your case, and for my brother being a dick."

"Who's being a dick?" Elliot walked into the room, carrying a bag from the deli down the block and sipping from a soda. His eyes rose from his cup, scanned the room, and stopped when he saw Peter Langan, holding flowers and talking to Olivia. His eyebrows climbed high up his forehead. "Since when are you doing the enemy, Liv?"

Olivia turned bright pink. "This is Trevor's twin brother, Peter." She took the flowers gently, looking at them. A rose, lily, carnation, and daisy mix, with a few eucalyptus stems. She inhaled the delicate fragrance. "These are really lovely flowers, Peter."

Peter looked back at her, and she saw a flash of humor in those dark eyes even as his mouth curved into a merrily wicked smile. "They aren't lovely flowers, according to you. They're dying weeds." His hand shot up to his chest, as if he'd been shot in the heart, and he stumbled backwards a few steps. Olivia giggled in embarrassment and humor as John and Fin broke into sweetly malicious chuckling from behind their desks.

She busied herself with taking her glass of water from her desk, grabbing a pair of scissors, and slitting the cellophane packaging from around the flowers carefully. She started snipping the ends and arranging them in the makeshift vase. "I'm sorry for being so rude," she said, glad she had something to occupy her so he wouldn't see how red her face had gotten.

"If you're really sorry, I know how you can make it up to me." Elliot, who had been about to sit down, froze with his ass halfway to the chair seat. John and Fin shot each other a 'here we go' look.

Olivia put the scissors down, positive she knew what was coming but uncertain if she should accept. "Really? How?" she asked, to buy time.

His grin got wider, showing even white teeth. God, he looked so much like Trevor, but his smile was so different…she couldn't even remember ever having seen a pleasant smile on Trevor Langan's face. "Have dinner with me tonight."

Butterflies fluttered contentiously in her stomach, and she laughed lightly as she started to collect stem clippings and cellophane from her desk and drop them in the wastebasket by her desk. "Is this your usual pickup line?" _I want to accept, but my God, what is everyone going to think?_

Peter shook his head. "No, I've been saving that for when I met the prettiest woman in the world." Olivia had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. _Yes, it's a blatant pick-up line, but at least he admits it…and no one's _ever_ called me that before._

"Oh please." Just to cover her sudden flush. She could feel Elliot's eyes boring into her, and behind her, John and Fin's eyes were doing a similar number on her back. _They're dying to see my reaction. Damn it, how do I say yes without them thinking…_

"You are." Peter turned to the three men. "Isn't she?"

Elliot looked at Olivia's pink face and grinned suddenly. This was going to be fun. "Of course," he said, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of his chair.

John took his cue from Elliot. "Absolutely."

Fin snickered. "Got my vote."

Olivia looked like she was going to die of embarrassment on the spot. "Guys! Stop!" She threw up her mental hands and turned to Peter. "All right, you win."

"She gets off at six," John supplied helpfully. Olivia turned and glared daggers at him; he returned the look with one of bland innocence and thinly disguised mirth.

Peter smiled gamely. "So I'll pick you up at six?"

Olivia leaned against her desk and sighed. "What, I don't get to go home and change first?" She looked at him. "Do I need to change? Where are we going?"

Peter ran a hand through his hair, suddenly charmingly uneasy. "Well, I actually don't know. I'm new to town, so I guess…wherever you want to go is great."

Elliot paused in the act of pushing papers aside on his desk to make room for his lunch. "New to town? Where are you from?"

"Just got back from a tour in Iraq."

Elliot frowned. "Army?"

"No. Marines."

"No kidding! Me too." Elliot held out his arm, wrist upward, proudly displaying the tattoo on the inside of his arm.

Peter grinned, extending a hand. "A fellow jarhead. Nice meeting you." Elliot found himself grinning as he shook Peter's hand. He seemed like a nice guy, certainly better than Trevor. And Olivia was definitely attracted; he could read it in her body language. It had been a while since he'd seen her smile like that for anyone… "I'm sorry?" He'd missed whatever Peter had said; he'd been too busy watching Olivia.

"I said, how long have you been out?"

"Oh. Fifteen years."

Peter grinned again. "Old jarhead."

Elliot wanted to get annoyed, but couldn't even manage that. Instead, he grinned and threw Olivia back in the fire. "Not with Liv. She'll keep you young."

Olivia's eyes widened, and she reached out and smacked him in the arm, none too gently. "Elliot!"

Peter watched the exchange with mounting interest, and finally cleared his throat delicately. "So, Elliot, what's good around here?"

Elliot leaned in and said in a stage whisper, "She loves Italian. Take her to Costa Azzura."

Peter smiled and responded in the same whisper. "Thanks."

Olivia decided that was just about enough. "All right, all right!" She appeared resigned, but she was secretly glad the guys weren't going to hassle her about going out to dinner with Peter. _I'm glad they're okay with it. Not that they really have any say in who I date, but I'm glad my 'family' likes him_. "I'll call and make the reservation. And I'll meet you at my place." She scribbled her address on a slip of paper and handed it to him. "I have to change, and so do you. You can't go like that." She eyed the khaki pants and black t-shirt. The shirt fit him like a second skin and showed off the toned physique he'd acquired in the service, but it wouldn't be appropriate for Costa Azzura.

Peter turned to Elliot. "Should I wear Marine khaki or dress whites?"

Elliot thought for a minute. "Dress whites. Olivia's gonna wear black."

Olivia glared at him in mock annoyance. "How do you know what I'm going to wear?" She took Peter's arm. "Come on. I'll walk you out before they corrupt you." She waved a hand at the squad room and walked him out, feeling the amused glances of the three guys behind her as she left.

Cragen strolled into the squad room barely a minute later, almost walking backwards. "Please tell me I didn't just see what I thought I just saw."

Elliot grinned wolfishly. "Depends on what you think you saw."

Cragen stared at him with a 'you gotta be kidding me' expression in his eyes. John took pity on him and smiled. "You think you saw our resident social butterfly leaving with a certain defense attorney we all love to hate?"

Cragen sighed and nodded. "Since when did Liv start dating the enemy?"

Elliot grinned humorously. "That's what I said."

John grinned. "Apparently 'The Enemy' has a much more amiable twin brother who thinks The Enemy is a dick and Olivia the prettiest woman in the world. A bona fide example of the proverbial 'evil twin' myth, although apparently Trevor is the evil twin in this instance."

Cragen sighed and rolled his eyes expressively to the ceiling. "Ah. Then I hope to hell this doesn't come back to bite us in the ass." He walked toward his office, shaking his head silently.

Elliot, John, and Fin burst into laughter as soon as the door closed behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Date**

The buzzer by her door rang, and Olivia hurried to the door to answer it. "Peter? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me, Olivia."

"Hold on, I'll buzz you in." She pressed the button, waited a minute, then walked back into her bathroom to finish applying her makeup. A few minutes later, there was a knock on her door, and she stuck her head out the bathroom door long enough to call, "The door's unlocked, come on in."

She heard the door open, and then close, and a second later came Peter's "Olivia?"

"I'm in the bathroom. Give me a sec." She gave her hair a last quick fluff and turned off the light, pulling the door open and stepping out. She paused there for a moment, smiling as she saw his expression.

"Wow," he finally managed. "I thought Elliot said you'd wear black."

"Hey, I can't be that predictable," she grinned as she strolled across the floor and reached for her wrap. She'd deliberately ransacked her closet for something _not_ in black; it had taken some doing because, come to think of it, most of her dinner dresses were black, or black with black sequins, or black and silver, or black with some other subtle touch of color. They were mostly all still black. Finally she'd dug out a dress in a deep cranberry fabric, with spaghetti straps and an asymmetrical knee-length skirt. She couldn't even remember when she'd worn it last, but it still fit perfectly, and she even still had heeled shoes and an evening purse to match. Not that she would have minded if she'd had to wear something in black, but she had this perverse little desire to show him that Elliot didn't know everything about her. _Although, come to think of it, maybe Elliot deliberately mentioned I'd wear black in order to get me not to wear black…would he be that subtle?_ She shook her head, dispelling the wayward thought, and smiled. "Are you ready?"

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He was still standing there with his mouth half-open, and she grinned, childishly pleased that she could have this effect on a man.

"Hey, you're not half-bad yourself." Actually, he looked better than 'not half bad'; the dress whites brought out the color of his hair and eyes, and were tailored to fit his form. The hat finished the frame of his face and made him look distinguished and handsome. She wondered how she could have ever mistaken him for Trevor; he had smile lines Trevor didn't have, and just a generally relaxed, pleasant air about him. "I called and made reservations for seven."

The maitre d' was all courtesy and graciousness when they arrived, and showed them to a table immediately. Olivia felt very conscious of Peter's hand on her elbow, guiding her around the seats, and when they sat down at their table she looked at him quizzically. "Nervous?"

He looked embarrassed. "Well…sort of," he finally admitted sheepishly. "It's been a while since I had a beautiful woman to eat dinner with in a nice place."

"You can't go on dates while on duty?"

"Well, we can, but…well, I was stationed in the middle of the desert. There aren't a whole lot of choices for female company, since most of the off-base women were…very conservative…and I really didn't feel like dating the other women in the company, or one of the nurses. I like to compartmentalize, keep work separate from my personal life." He took a sip of water from the glass in front of him, and smiled wryly. "And there's this constant fear of getting shot, or blown up, or something…you can never really relax, on enemy turf. And I haven't had a steady girl for a few years."

"How long have you been out on your tour?"

"Eighteen months, this last time, but that's not the reason for this sudden dry spell. Last time I was in town I was visiting Trevor and crashing at his place, and he set me up with a blind date with a woman." He made a face.

Olivia chuckled. "Bad?"

He rolled his eyes. "You have no idea. Trevor and I are twins, and we're close, but we have very different tastes in a lot of things, and women are one. He's so self-absorbed that he doesn't realize that what he finds attractive in a date is different from what I find attractive, and the difference means I hate his and he hates mine." He shuddered. "After that I told him not to try doing me any more favors, and I could find my own dates if I want one."

"I remember the girls at my college went nuts over guys in uniforms."

"Were you one of them?"

"No. I had my own ideas about men, and none of them quite fit the bill."

"High standards?"

One corner of her lips twitched upwards in a smile. "You could say that."

He grinned back. "Me too, which is why it's been a while since I went steady with anyone. My Dad told me once to 'Set your standards high, and you'll never have to settle for mediocrity'. So I did, and while I might not be knee-deep in dates, when I do find a woman I like to spend time with she's worth the wait." He took another sip as he opened the menu. "What about now? I find it difficult to believe you lack for company."

She shook her head, looking down at her own menu. "It's been a year since my last serious relationship."

He stared at her. "Wow. Why on earth would anyone pass you up? You're beautiful…no, gorgeous, drop-dead gorgeous, and you're successful and smart to boot. What's not to like?"

Olivia looked up at him. "What do you know about your brother's job?"

"Huh?"

"Specifically, the types of cases he defends."

He thought about that for a moment. "I saw the case today." He saw her look. "I just got in, and I wanted to say hi to Trevor. I checked with his office and they said he was in court, so I went to the courthouse. Security waved me through, then told me I was late and the judge was going to dress me down for inappropriate attire." He grinned. "Then a court bailiff saw me, did a double take, and said he could have sworn he'd just seen me in room 5. So I knew where Trevor was. I got in just in time to hear him finish his cross examination of that girl Allison." He sighed. "You and that blonde prosecutor just looked so annoyed with him after that. I saw her give up, and you looked frustrated. And I hated Trevor for what he did to Allison; I saw her face as she left. She looked like she'd never smile again. By the way, is she okay?"

"Morris Karman really did a number on her emotionally and mentally. She moved into her parents' home and refused to set foot outside without an escort. She won't even take her dog out to the backyard." Olivia sighed. "I think she might have had more of a feeling of security if he'd been convicted, but as soon as she said she didn't know which suspect she was supposed to pick out of the lineup, we were done. Your brother might be a smarmy jerk, but at least he's good at what he does…I respect the work he does and the professionalism with which he does it, even while I dislike him personally and professionally." She looked up at Peter, smiling faintly. "I'm sorry, I know he's your brother and all, but…"

"No, no, you go right on ahead." Peter waved a hand at her, chuckling quietly. "He's always been good at arguing his way out of things, since we were little. Of course, that might just be big-brother talk, but I swear I got in more trouble than he did because he could talk his way out of anything. Law school was all he wanted since eighth grade."

"So you're older?"

He nodded. "By twelve minutes. It's not a big difference in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like that sometimes. Mom and Dad were so proud of the lawyer in the family, always made a lot of him, his drive, his dedication, his ambition…and I didn't even know what I wanted to do with my life until I was twenty. A buddy of mine wanted to enlist, so I drove him down to the recruiting station, and ended up signing on too. But it got me away from the family, helped me find a direction, and taught me some discipline." He shrugged. "At least, it did provide me with direction. Now I don't know. I've started considering other options lately. I have to make a decision soon. My enlistment time is up in a few weeks, and I took my accumulated leave all at once so I could have some time to decide if I wanted to re-enlist."

"You don't like it anymore?"

"It's not that I don't like it, I guess…" he shrugged. "All my life it was family, and then the Marines were like another sort of family. I want to step out of that, experience some of what's out there. I've been a career soldier for the last twenty years, now I want to experience something more. I was thinking about the FBI, but I don't know…" he sighed. "I don't want to move around. I want to settle down somewhere and start living. It's just that protecting the innocent and fighting for an intangible cause has become such a big part of me that I don't know how to be anything else."

"Have you thought about being a cop?"

"What, here?" he frowned. "No, I hadn't…It hadn't occurred to me."

The waitress came, and they placed their orders. She waited until the waitress moved off before she said, "Maybe you should think about it. Your military training would be a definite plus; they'd probably tap you for SWAT or Special Forces. You're used to protecting innocents; we do that every day. We fight for justice, and that's an intangible cause. It wouldn't be all that different from the Marines; you'd still be strapping on a gun every morning and going to work, but you don't have to worry about bombs or missiles. Most threats are direct, immediate, and over quickly, and at the end of the day you can just leave it all and go home. The police is like a family, depending on longevity and dedication of the people around you, but it still leaves room for something else if you want it."

"Like your unit? The way the guys were teasing you in there and throwing you at me kind of reminded me a little of when I was younger and Trevor and the family would set me up with dates. It just felt like there was this whole big brother/little sister thing going on there. Especially with your partner… Elliot?"

"Yeah. Elliot." Olivia laughed. "Yes, what we have could be classified as a big brother/little sister thing. John and Fin even point out to me that we argue like siblings." She sat back as the waitress brought their plates. "But it's just…we don't always see eye-to-eye on cases, and it can be so damn annoying when he takes a stance and I know I'm right, he knows I'm right, but he won't admit it. He can be damn stubborn sometimes." She dug her fork into her _linguine_ with an exasperated huff. "But even with all our disagreements, we're still pretty tight. I was assigned to him randomly when I joined up, but even if we hadn't I think I still would have picked him for my partner. Even if he does annoy the hell out of me sometimes." She took a bite.

Peter smiled as he took a bite of his seafood _pescatore_. "Trevor and I are like that. When we were younger we were inseparable. We even dressed alike until eighth grade. We'd play each other for a day just to annoy our teachers, and April Fools was a big event to us because we just did so much stuff on that day to fool everybody. It was great, it was like being one person in two bodies." He took a sip of his wine. "Despite the distance and time, we're still close. Sometimes I'll reach for the phone to call him, and it will ring just as I touch it, and it'll be him. We'll arrive at the same time at our parents' house for family functions and holidays when I'm in town; there was this one really freaky time when we both mailed our birthday cards to each other on the same day and it got to us at the same time even though there was an entire ocean between us. My father used to joke that he wished he'd have had us when he was still in school; he would have written his senior psych thesis on twin psychology and gotten an A." He smiled at her puzzled look. "Dad's a psychologist, Mom's a chemistry major-turned-pharmacologist-turned-chemistry professor. There used to be a running joke in the family that I should have become a doctor, then we would have been able to open a true family practice." Olivia laughed, appreciating the joke, and he smiled as he dug his fork into his food again. "This is really good. Do you come here often?"

"When I can. Work keeps me pretty busy." Olivia smiled. "Actually, before tonight, I hadn't been back here in a year. Too much going on at work to contend with."

"Why so long? We got sidetracked, but I'm still curious. Why wouldn't someone like a woman like you? And what's this got to do with my brother's job?"

Olivia pursed her lips. "A lot of men are intimidated by a strong independent woman."

"Yeah. Like Trev." He saw her face. "Sorry. Go on."

"No, really. Is that why he doesn't like me?"

"The first—and only—time he mentioned you in his letters to me, I got the impression the dislike was mutual."

"Oh, it is. Believe me, it is." Olivia shook her head. "Let's not go there."

"Okay. So why don't men, in general like you? Your partner can't be that intimidating, can he? Or is he the reason—" he stopped because Olivia was laughing so hard she was almost choking on her food. "Was it something I said?" He picked up her water and handed it to her.

"No, no," Olivia waved a hand at him, laughing silently until she got herself under control sufficiently to take a sip from the proffered glass. "Oh God, no. I don't let the guys, especially Elliot, dictate who I do and don't date. And there's this little departmental rule about dating your partner, so I couldn't even if I wanted to, which I don't. Elliot's still on the rebound."

"Long-term relationship?"

She sobered, nodding. "Twenty years of marriage and four kids."

"Ouch." He winced. "Rough."

"Tell me about it." She sighed. "She left him last year, and all this year I've been covering for him. I think Captain Cragen would fire him if he knew how often Elliot's skipped out early to get a head start on his weekend with the kids, or to go to a meeting with his divorce lawyer, or been too trashed to come in to work. There was one week when I worked three doubles because he didn't come in."

"Doubles?"

"Double shift. One shift is supposed to be eight hours, but because Special Victims is a volunteer unit, and no one ever volunteers, we have to work overtime to make sure we can handle all our cases. Our shifts are more like ten hours, and sometimes when we have a real bad one, we don't even get to go home. We'll catch quick naps in the Crib. The bunkroom at the precinct," she explained.

"Twenty hours a stretch, three times in one week?" he shook his head. "I would have let him get yelled at by the captain. He would have deserved it."

"I couldn't do that to him, no matter how pissed off I got at him." Olivia wiped her mouth with her napkin and took a sip of her wine. She'd forgotten how good the food was here; the dress felt a little tighter around her middle than it had when she left her place. "And Don was on vacation. Anyway, if I need Elliot to work, he or one of the other guys will take over, so it's just a matter of scratching each other's backs." She still vividly remembered John and Fin's fury when they'd come in and found her crying from sheer exhaustion and frustration at Elliot, but she wasn't going to bring that up here.

"You guys are pretty tight-knit." He sat back and pushed his empty plate back, finishing his wine off. "So why does no one volunteer for Special Victims? What's 'Special Victims' mean, anyway?"

"We solve sexually-based offenses, like rape," Olivia said, fiddling with the stem of her wineglass, waiting for the inevitable reaction. When none was forthcoming, she looked up, to meet his curious eyes. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it? Should it?" He sounded completely baffled, and she released the breath she'd been holding. Obstacle number one and two, passed. When she started a relationship, the first hurdle was when her date found out she was a cop. That drove many guys away, but not all. Next hurdle was the kinds of cases she investigated. Most of them stopped here. Or she stopped it if she thought it was going to be a problem. After Nick Ganzner she'd become a lot more selective about who made it past this point. Peter had passed with flying colors. The third hurdle, her past, was a point that only one boyfriend had gotten to in her life and never passed. She wondered if she should show him that last hurdle. _No. Not yet. I like him, and I'm lonely. I don't want to tell him just yet…in case he fails too._ "It bothers some people."

"Why? Wouldn't you want a woman working with rape victims? Wouldn't they be more willing to open up to another woman than a male detective?"

"It's not that." She sighed. "The initial reaction is usually either 'eww, gross, how do you stand to listen to that all day every day?' or 'oh, wow, tell me all about it', meaning all the lewd, disgusting, sordid, dirty details. They don't understand me when I try to explain why I do it. And the other way…I had this one really horrible date with a reporter who told me he wanted to act out the case I was currently investigating. I threw him out."

"I don't blame you." Peter was disgusted. "I mean, how sick was that? Jeez. Might as well hang a sign on his forehead saying 'I'm a pervert'."

Olivia had to laugh weakly at the mental image. "Oh God. I can just see that, Nick walking around with 'pervert' written on his forehead. It certainly would make it easy to know to avoid him." She sobered. "I've been with the unit for eight years. In that time I swear I've seen every kind of perversion there is. No one wants that kind of image in their heads. A lot of cops don't want to walk around with that kind of mental imagery in their heads. So they don't volunteer." She shook her head. "I don't even want that stuff in my head. It's so hard seeing it sometimes. People are relentlessly inventive and cruel in devising ways to torment each other…and even worse, their kids. We see a lot of kids in our line of work." She took a long swallow of her wine, draining her glass.

"If you don't want it, and it's a volunteer unit, why do you stay? Why do you do it?" he leaned forward over the table, locking eyes with her.

She met his gaze levelly. "Because someone has to. Because I have a knack for empathizing with victims." She wasn't going to bring up why. Not yet. Though she was getting increasingly curious to know how he'd handle knowing about her past. "Because they need me. Because I don't know who would if I didn't. Because no one else would care as much. Because I can't see myself anywhere else. Because…" a memory teased the edge of her consciousness… "They can't walk away from the ruins of their lives, and so I can't walk away from them." She sighed. "There are a ton of reasons why I want to leave Special Victims…and a ton and a half reasons to stay. The day the scales tip the other way will be the day I leave."

"It's not going to happen any time soon," Peter said. "Olivia…I know this is personal, but…you have to give so much of yourself to the job…who makes sure you still have something left to give to yourself?"

Olivia sat back as the waitress took her empty plate and left a rich chocolate confection in its place. "We help keep each other together," she said softly after the woman left, picking up her fork and playing with the cherry in the whipped cream. "Elliot's been with the unit for twelve years; John just as long; Fin for seven. We keep an eye on each other, and Don—Captain Cragen—keeps an eye on us. If we start falling apart, he'll be the first one to order us into the department shrink's office. If he thinks we need time off, he'll insist we take it even if we don't want to. He puts his detectives first and almost everything else second." She sighed. "We also have George—he's the department profiler, he's on permanent loan to us from the FBI—watching us. We can talk to him off the record, and he keeps the confidence unless he thinks one of us is going off the deep end. He'll confront us and tell Don, no matter how we hate it, and him, for doing it. Casey also helps keep us in line, reminding us of not only our obligation to the victim, but also our obligation to the law. There are times when the temptation is there to do anything, no matter how illegal, to close a case; she reminds us that as much as we have obligations to the victims, we have obligations to the law, and the law comes first over our personal feelings." She looked up at him. "So you see, we have a support system that helps us do our jobs. It's not a solitary operation. None of us are ever alone." She took a bite of her dessert, and closed her eyes in sheer bliss. "Oh, God…I'd forgotten just how good their chocolate mousse is…"

Peter almost choked on his laughter. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "What's so funny?"

"You," he said. "You looked like a dehydrated man in the desert getting his first drink of water in days."

"I'm a chocoholic," she grinned. "But this really is that good. Here." She skimmed a little off her mousse with her fork and held it out. "Try it." He stared at her, at the bite on her fork, and she laughed, waving the fork in the air. "Try it. Really. It's that good." He reached forward and took the morsel off her fork.

"You're right," he said, his eyebrows rising. "It's really good." He savored the bite. "But then, after military rations, anything's good." She started to laugh, and he skimmed a forkful off his own dessert and offered it to her. "Here. This is their tiramisu." She took the bite daintily off his fork, smiling inside when his eyes glazed over as her lips closed over the end.

"I've never tried it, but I think now I'll have to," she smiled when she'd swallowed the bite. "But not tonight, I think I'm stuffed—" she broke off as her phone rang. Peter watched as she dug it out of the purse and answered it. "Benson."

He watched as her face went from smiling to sad in the blink of an eye. "Oh my God." Her face fell, and her eyes started to glitter. "Oh, Casey. Casey, please, there's nothing you could have done. It was over as soon as she said she didn't know which guy she was supposed to pick out. Casey, it wasn't your fault. Casey—" she took the phone out of her ear, looked at it, put it to her ear again. "Casey? Casey, are you there?" She took the phone out of her ear and closed it, then sat for a moment, staring at it.

"What's wrong?" He reached out to catch the tear that fell suddenly from her eye.

She started, wiped away another tear, and said quietly, "Allison Geary committed suicide early this evening. Swallowed all of her pain pills at once with vodka from her father's liquor cabinet. They found her half an hour ago dead in her bed." She stared at her plate. "She…even called Casey and told her…"

"Olivia." He didn't know what to say, she was so obviously in pain, and it had been his brother who got Allison's rapist acquitted. And Allison evidently hadn't been able to take it. "I'm sorry." It seemed painfully inadequate.

"Don't be, it's not your fault." She stood. "Casey's falling apart. She hung up on me. I have to go. I'm sorry for running out on you like this."

"It's all right. Wait a second, I'll drive you wherever you need to go." He motioned quickly to the waitress, who came back only a minute later with their bill. Peter glanced at it, dropped a hundred on the table, and grabbed his coat. "Let's go."

He shivered in his dress whites as he stood with Olivia outside an apartment building not far from Central Park. Olivia, standing out there in that red dress, had left her coat in his rented car and didn't even seem cold. She kept pressing the buzzer and calling Casey's name, but there was no answer. He was about to suggest gently that they leave when she stopped, pressed another button, and a few minutes later a tall balding man came puffing up to the door. "Detective Olivia Benson. I'm here to check on Casey Novak, apartment 4C?" She flashed her badge, and the building super let her in. She took the stairs two at a time, in heels, and he marveled at her poise and grace and balance even as he ached for the tears that trickled heedlessly down her cheeks. She stopped in front of apartment 4C, and turned the knob. It opened. "Casey's expecting me," Olivia said quietly, and stepped into the darkened apartment. Peter stood by the door, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness, so different from the bright hallway outside.

Olivia never hesitated. She'd dropped her purse at the door and headed straight for the couch, where Peter could see the blond prosecutor from that morning was curled in the corner, crying into a throw pillow. Olivia sat next to her and put her arms around her friend, and Casey folded onto her shoulder, sobbing. Olivia's face was damp too. "Sssh. It's all right, Casey. It's all right."

"She called me, Olivia," Casey sobbed. "This afternoon. She called at five o'clock this afternoon and said it would be all right, that she didn't blame me for not getting the guy who raped her, and she would be fine. She sounded like she was at peace, she said she was going to be fine, that she was going to get the courage to leave tonight, to go on. I didn't know she meant she would commit suicide, Olivia, I didn't know she was going to kill herself! If I'd known what she was trying to say—if I'd read between the lines—if I'd told her parents that she called me and what she said, I could have prevented her from succeeding. I could have stopped her, Olivia! If I'd only paid attention…" Casey broke off in sobs.

"Casey. It was terrible, but there was nothing you could have done. You didn't know, there was no way you could have known what she was planning, what she was going to do. There were two ways you could have interpreted her words, and you chose to hope. There was nothing you could have done." She pulled Casey off her shoulder and looked her friend in the eye.

Casey looked up…and froze when she saw Peter, standing helplessly by the door. "What the hell is he doing here? What the hell are you doing with him?" She stared at Olivia's dress, at Peter, and hatred boiled in her green eyes.

"Casey! Casey!" Olivia shook her a little to get her eyes off Peter and back to her. "It's not Trevor, Casey. This is his twin brother Peter. He's a friend. We were on a date."

"Doing the enemy's brother?" Casey sniffled.

"He's a completely separate individual from Trevor, Casey," Olivia shook her head and let Casey go. "Peter's in the Marines."

Casey looked thoughtfully at Peter, who smiled uncertainly, then she pushed herself off the couch and held out her hand. "Casey Novak."

"Peter Langan." He settled himself uncomfortably on the arm of the couch and smiled as sincerely as he could. "I'm sorry, Ms. Novak."

Casey sighed as she sat back in the depths of her end of the couch. "It's okay. You're not your brother's keeper." She looked at Olivia, and one corner of her lips turned upward in a smile. "Do the guys know?"

"Know? As soon as they found out they threw me at him!" Olivia cracked a smile, and Peter saw her attempt at humor had distracted her friend. Casey smiled, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Some of the darkness left her green eyes, though not all.

"It looks like I interrupted a nice date."

"It's okay," Peter said before Olivia could reassure her friend. "We were done with dinner. I was about to call it a night, anyway. It seems to have been a long day for you." It was also almost eleven, according to Casey's illuminated wall clock. "Olivia, do you need a ride home?"

"I'll walk from here." The look she threw his way was full of gratitude for his understanding.

"Oh no you won't," Casey interjected. "You'll stay here. I'm not losing another friend."

"All right. I guess I'm crashing on your couch tonight." Olivia smiled.

"You'll be okay? You sure?" Peter stood uncertainly.

"I'll be fine, Peter. Thank you." He didn't want to kiss her with Casey watching, but he felt he needed to do something, so he settled for a quick, chaste peck on her cheek and left, closing the door behind him.

He thought about them all the way downtown, as if Olivia's forgotten coat wasn't a mute reminder. He acknowledged the doorman with a brief nod, was still thinking about Olivia and Casey when he stepped into the darkened apartment and kicked off his shoes. He tried to be as quiet as he could, but a voice called from the bedroom, "Pete? That you?"

"Yeah, Trev. It's me." He unbuttoned his dress shirt and stripped off his dress whites quickly, folding them in the dark out of long habit and stowing it back in his suitcase before Trevor got out of bed and turned on the hallway light.

"Isn't it kind of late?" Trevor yawned widely, and for a moment, Peter thought savagely that he'd like to wipe the sleep off his brother's face by telling him that the woman whose life his client had ruined had committed suicide, but he knew that, while Trevor might spare a moment to think about it, it wouldn't bother him nearly as much as it had bothered Casey, or Olivia. Or even himself. Allison Geary's death wouldn't make any sort of dent in that moral vacuum his brother lived most of his life in.

"I'm on vacation." He loved Trevor; they were brothers, twins; but sometimes he wondered what happened to him in law school. Didn't Trevor have any conscience at all?

"Oh. Hot date." Trevor yawned. "Anybody I know?" Peter opened his mouth to say yes, but Trevor spoke before he could say anything. "Course not. Hey, let me take you with me tomorrow. There's this blond lawyer at the firm I've been cultivating, and it might be fun to double date if the chick you found is okay with that."

_She's not a chick!_ Peter wanted to yell, but it wouldn't have made any sense to Trevor. All girls were chicks. And he wondered, again, what had happened while he was serving and Trevor was in law school that had put so much of a rift in the former closeness they'd shared for more than half their lives. "I'll see," he said, faking a yawn.

"Oh. Yeah, you're tired. I gotta get up early tomorrow too. Good night, Pete." Trevor stumbled back into his bedroom, turning off the hall light as he went. Peter lay down on the couch, pulling the blanket over him, but the image of Olivia and Casey, so obviously broken up by the death of someone they barely knew, haunted him all the way down into sleep.


End file.
